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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24842656">This is where we begin.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kru/pseuds/Kru'>Kru</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>of witchers and bards [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Magic, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Romantic Fluff, Summer Solstice, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, a little bit of, and a lot of, the working title was basically - how i met your mother xd, they all have a lot of feelings okay?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:02:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,916</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24842656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kru/pseuds/Kru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re one lucky bastard,” he states after a moment.<br/>“Am I?” Geralt snorts.<br/>“Yes,” Jaskier explains carefully as he goes through the content of the basket. “Because if this had been deeper or more serious, I would finish you off myself as payment for risking your life so stupidly. A bear? Seriously?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>of witchers and bards [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626238</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>This is where we begin.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Wrote for an amazing event - <a href="https://geraskiermidsummerminibang.tumblr.com">Geraskier Midsummer Mini Bang</a></p><p>Incredible illustrations by <a href="https://ja0netholmes.tumblr.com/post/615237420258099200/are-they-drift-compatible">ja0netholmes</a></p><p>Bated by even more amazing <a href="https://locktea.tumblr.com/">locktea</a></p><p>I hope you'll enjoy it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  
</p><p class="p1">The sun, now low and lazy, lays long streams of light on the ground, shining from between tree trunks. It highlights all the bugs flying around, busy with gathering pollen from evening flowers. The sound of all those tiny wings is loud enough to fill the air. It mixes with the soft hum of wind, dancing in cherry treetops. It intervenes with voices coming from the temple all the way here, to the orchard, and merges with the tweets of swallows. They fly low, close to the ground and Jaskier wonders if this foreshadows rain. He stops for a moment and looks at the sky. It’s clear. The day had been pleasantly hot, not heavy. The wind blows gentle, fresh air.</p><p class="p1">He steps back and takes another look at what he has prepared. In between a small circle of trees, covered by their branches but still with enough view of the temple, there is a spread of soft, big pillows and blankets. Among them, he put lanterns filled with candles. He still doesn’t light them, it’s too soon, but once the sun starts to move closer to the horizon, they should give just enough gleam. Everything is situated under a canopy. Its white linen flows on the wind to bring some shade and intimacy - but not quite enough cover if it were to rain.</p><p class="p1">He stands there, tapping fingers on his lips in the rhythm of a melody only he can hear and wonders if he should count for any possibility. Rain included. It’s only a few hours until dusk but anything might happen, and he would rather prefer not to be surprised or interrupted once the thing he hopes for starts.</p><p class="p1">“Wine glasses!” he remembers suddenly and turns to run for them when he almost bumps into a short woman, exclaiming surprised, “Nenneke?”</p><p class="p1">The woman stands with her arms crossed and a face that means trouble.</p><p class="p1">“I came personally,” she says slowly and frowns while she continues, “To tell you that your bath is ready.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh,” Jaskier lets out and smiles nervously, “Thank you, I think?”</p><p class="p1">“You think?” she murmurs and swiftly produces a cloth out of nowhere, hitting him with it and telling him firmly with every blow, “Stop. Using. My adepts. As. Your. Servants!”</p><p class="p1">“Ow-ow-ow!” he shouts, covering himself with his arm and tries to move back but Nenneke only comes after him. “I w-won’t! I promise!”</p><p class="p1">She hits him a few more times probably for the effect to settle and then finally stops, huffing, “Good! Because I don’t have time to teach you manners. You know this is the bu–”</p><p class="p1">“The busiest day in the template, yes, yes,” he interrupts her and adds, “I know. You only told me that a hundred times.”</p><p class="p1">Nenneke holds the cloth up again and Jaskier sways aside, out of her reach instantly.</p><p class="p1">“It’s busy and important. We have many guests coming from a lot of places. Some of them are our benefactors,” She stresses the last word, putting hands on her wide hips as she claims, “And you’ve been doing nothing to help.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re only mad at me because I won’t grace your celebrations with my lovely voice.”</p><p class="p1">Nenneke snorts and shakes her head, saying “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”</p><p class="p1">“I won’t sleep,” the bard admits proudly, “Today, that is. Hopefully.”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t want to know,” the woman stops him and then tries to look behind the man, barreling him out of her way as she asks, “What have you been up to anyway?”</p><p class="p1">When she sees the whole scene her gaze suddenly softens. She glances back at Jaskier with far more fondness. There is even a shadow of a smile playing on her lips when she leans and reaches for his face. The bard moves back at reflex but Nenneke only pats his cheek gently.</p><p class="p1">“I used to think you two were too different,” she says quietly when Jaskier smiles back.</p><p class="p1">“You used to?” the man asks and offers her an arm.</p><p class="p1">She accepts and as they start walking back to the temple, she says, “Now I know you are not different, but you are more like two embodiments of the same form.”</p><p class="p1">“If I didn’t know you, I would say you missed your calling,” Jaskier tells her, leaning to her ear to add confidentially, “You sound like a poet.”</p><p class="p1">Nenneke smacks his arm and the bard moves back but this time he knows he isn’t in imminent danger. The woman only laughs softly.</p><p class="p1">“You’re like the sun and moon,” she concludes finally. “One seems to be cold but he’s only calm and dedicated. And he needs the other one, the warm one. He needs him to know how to live and how to love. Because this one is livid, a little bit hot under the collar but so very loyal.”</p><p class="p1">Jaskier smiles hearing those words and tries to memorise them. He thinks they will make a great ballad. Walking in silence, they finally reach a high pile of wood prepared for when the night starts to settle. It’s the center of today’s celebration. The place where all Melitele's priestesses will pray to the goddess for her to bless the crops. There will be dancing and singing. There’ll be drinking and eating. Everything to praise life with all its delights. Today it’s Midaëte after all. The day of passage when the sun rules over the world the longest but also starts to give the moon more and more power.</p><p class="p1">“You know,” he starts, bowing when he sees a known face in the adepts’ crowd as they walk along and adds, “Today it’s the longest time when those two reign over the firmament together.”</p><p class="p1">“Jaskier,” there is a warning as she says his name and stops. “Don’t teach a father how his children are made.”</p><p class="p1">“All right, all right,” he laughs and holds his hands up in surrender. “I was just trying to get into the mood!”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t laugh at the power of Midaëte,” Nenneke tells him seriously. “It’s the day when dreams might come true so be careful what you jabber about,” she warns and tries to hit him with the cloth again.</p><p class="p1">Jaskier jumps back, managing to evade the blow, “Aye, aye, I’m going.”</p><p class="p1">“So, go,” Nenneke rushes at him and threatens with the cloth as she adds under her breath, “You scallywag.”</p><p class="p1">The bard bows low and with a flourish before he turns with a smile. He enters the temple’s walls and crosses the courtyard. Everything and everyone here is in a rush. Priestesses prepare themselves for the ceremony while adepts help in the organization of the feast. And any other person that seeks shelter in the temple is dragged away to take a part in getting the event ready. Except for him and Geralt. For them, Jaskier has different plans. Plans that even Nenneke let him carry on with freely. More or less. He might take some liberties with some food and wine dedicated to the celebrations though...</p><p class="p1">He manages to bypass one of the youngest adepts on his way up the tower at the last moment, probably saving the content of the basket she carries. She wants to say thanks but Jaskier doesn’t stop and runs up the stairs to his room. Well, their room, he corrects himself. After what happened in Kaer Morhen a few months back, Geralt plans their sleeping arrangements with far more consideration of Jaskier’s person.</p><p class="p1">And maybe because of the rush of excitement that’s been buzzing under his skin the whole day, the bard only spots the blood only when he’s halfway up the stairs. First, he sees a few drops on each step he takes, and he wants to ignore it. On a day like today, with so many people in a hurry, it might belong to anyone and be drawn for any reason. A cook’s cut finger. A small wound on an adept’s bare feet. For surely it can’t belong to the witcher. The witcher has been called to the village in the early morning hours to deal with an unidentified monster that probably wasn’t even a monster. Geralt said it himself before he left, and told Jaskier to go back to sleep. For sure he isn’t back yet. He can’t be.</p><p class="p1">But then Jaskier sees more of it and suddenly he feels a sharp sting of fear. He stops and looks up on the spiral staircase. There is a bigger stain a few steps up. And another one a few further. And then an unmistakable huge drag of ichor on the wall. It leads straight to their room. It’s evident. And as the bard realizes that he puts on a burst of speed. He takes three steps at once,climbing to the highest floor of the tower. With each step, he feels rising fear. With each step he struggles to breathe.</p><p class="p1">He reaches the door and sees a bloody handprint on the doorknob. He presses it with shaking hands, pushing the door open. Already ajar, it swings wide with a wailing squeak as the bard holds his breath completely.</p><p class="p1">“Fuck,” Jaskier only manages to cry out. </p><p class="p1">Geralt is back. He’s laying in Jaskier’s tub. And he is wounded.</p><p class="p1">“It isn’t as bad as it looks,” the witcher says without opening his eyes.</p><p class="p1">Jaskier inhales shakily, taking a few steps into the chamber. Geralt still doesn’t move. His head is tilted back on the bath’s rim. His arms spread on each side of the wooden edges. His legs have fallen open lazily. And it all could be normal, like it’s just another time the witcher went for Jaskier’s bath, if not for a nasty wound on Geralt’s right shoulder. Three claws marks have been gouged down into his chest, still open and bleeding.</p><p class="p1">“Geralt,” the bard starts, but it comes out as a strangled whimper.</p><p class="p1">He wants to ask, he wants to say so many things, but he can’t. The words are stuck in his throat.</p><p class="p1">The witcher holds his head up a little and cracks one eye open, whispering, “Sorry I got into your bath.”</p><p class="p1">“What are–” Jaskier tries again and takes a few more steps but when he sees the whole damage, he stops halfway again, choking on words as he says quietly, “Fuck, what happened?”</p><p class="p1">“A bear,” Geralt only murmurs, finally opening his eyes.</p><p class="p1">He tries to prop himself up and sit higher but when he moves the blood suddenly flows from the wound harder. It drains into the water, mixing and changing its color more and more with every passing second.</p><p class="p1">The witcher winces and hisses, “A big one.”</p><p class="p1">This finally wakes Jaskier up. He moves but then there is a rapid knock on the door before it is abruptly open and the bard stands face to face with one of Nenneke’s girls.</p><p class="p1">“I’ve everything he asked for,” the adept says, trying to look above the bard’s shoulder.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you, Iola,” Jaskier cuts in, reaching for the basket she brought. “I’ll take this over.”</p><p class="p1">“But you have no–” she starts but the bard doesn’t allow her to finish.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you, truly,” he repeats firmer this time.</p><p class="p1">The girl bows without another word and when Jaskier turns back to Geralt, he exhales heavily as he says, “We’ll talk about this later.”</p><p class="p1">“She’s just trying to be helpful,” the witcher states calmly, following the bard’s every move.</p><p class="p1">“Later,” Jaskier insists and drags a stool near the tub. “Now we have to take care of a far more pressing matter like the nasty implication that something apparently tried to cut you in a half. Oh, and don’t look at me like that,” he announces, when Geralt snorts as the bard settles behind him and adds, “I don’t believe in any of your lazy excuses.”</p><p class="p1">“It was just a bear,” the witcher repeats dismissively but he surrenders to Jaskier’s hands.</p><p class="p1">Jaskier isn’t a healer, his knowledge is intermediate at best and can’t be compared with Melitele's adepts, but he did learn a great deal of attending to wounds during his travels with the witcher. He might not know how to cure pneumonia or treat someone who has the plague, but he knows exactly how to take care of his lover. A lover who kills monsters for a living.</p><p class="p1">And so, his touch is light on Geralt’s skin. He delicately gathers the witcher’s hair to move it aside and the man instinctively tilts his head too, bearing his neck. Now Jaskier has a better view of the wound. It’s not as deep as he thought. The claws cut through skin and grazed the first layer of connective tissue, but there is no damage to muscles and tendons, Gods bless, but it still bleeds heavily as all the tiny veins are ripped and smashed by the force of the animal. Now, he is sure that it really must have been just an animal. He’s gone through enough to recognize Manticore or Kikimora claw marks.</p><p class="p1">“You’re one lucky bastard,” he states after a moment.</p><p class="p1">“Am I?” Geralt snorts.</p><p class="p1">“Yes,” Jaskier explains carefully as he goes through the content of the basket. “Because if this had been deeper or more serious, I would finish you off myself as payment for risking your life so stupidly. A bear? Seriously?”</p><p class="p1">Geralt hums his response, looking back at the bard even though it visibly causes him pain.</p><p class="p1">“It got in the way,” he announces vaguely.</p><p class="p1">“It got in the way,” Jaskier mocks the witcher’s tone and adds more irritated, “Of fucking what? Since when are normal animals your prey?”</p><p class="p1">The witcher lets out a long exhale, looking up to catch the bard’s gaze as he asks, “Will you do something about it, or should I go to look for Iola?”</p><p class="p1">Jaskier chokes on whatever he wanted to say - more from anger than surprise this time. He narrows his eyes and for a moment he plans on telling him exactly what he thinks about this idea but then Geralt’s head drops and the man hisses again, suddenly curling inward in the bath. The bard momentarily forgets about their argument and reaches for the aseptic.</p><p class="p1">“You know the drill,” he says, pulling the cork with his teeth.</p><p class="p1">Geralt only nods, leaning back again. When the bard puts a hand on his arm, he feels the witcher relax under his touch - even if what he’s about to do doesn’t belong to the category of most pleasurable activities.</p><p class="p1">“Do it,” the man says and Jaskier doesn’t hesitate longer.</p><p class="p1">He pours the whole contents of the bottle onto the witcher’s wound. Geralt grunts through clenched teeth as the liquid mixes with blood and suddenly starts to foam. It buzzes and goes deeper into the tissues but stops the flow of ichor, changing it into a brown scum. Slowly it drains down on the witcher’s chest to the water, dissolving in its depths. Jaskier’s hand never leaves. He keeps it steady on Geralt’s shoulder. His thumb makes small, gentle circles on heated skin, skimming it delicately in the rhythm of the witcher’s slowing down breath.</p><p class="p1">“I should cauterise it,” Jaskier decides.</p><p class="p1">He wants to take his hand off and prepare all the needed utensils but Geralt stops him, covering it with his own and says, “Leave it as it is.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s going to reopen,” the bard recounts firmer.</p><p class="p1">“There is no time,” Geralt insists. “We have an event to attend.”</p><p class="p1">Jaskier rolls his eyes, proposing, “Let me at least put something on it.”</p><p class="p1">“No,” Geralt opposes stubbornly and makes a move to stand up but the bard holds him firmly down.</p><p class="p1">“Geralt, talk to me,” he says softer. “What’s going on?”</p><p class="p1">The witcher huffs annoyed but he relaxes again under the bard fingers as they dig deeper into the muscles of his neck. He settles in the water, staying silent for a long moment like he’s deciding on something and then finally gives up.</p><p class="p1">“When I came back,” he confesses this time, not looking back at the bard. “They told me you were in the orchard, preparing something for tonight.”</p><p class="p1">Jaskier lets out a heavy breath, feeling that all the anger, all the annoyance, and uncertainty leave him. He realizes that the moment he saw Geralt, wounded and bleeding, everything else ceased to matter. All his plans. All the things he wanted to say or ask for today, all his dreams. The answer to the sudden problem is simple. Without Geralt, without him being well and safe, Jaskier's life is pointless. Without Geralt, he doesn’t want to exist.</p><p class="p1">“It doesn’t matter,” he finally says softly.</p><p class="p1">He runs his fingers up the witcher's spine, his neck, and to the hairline. His fingers gently tangle in the man's hair, pressing into his skin there. Instantly Geralt leans back into the touch with a content murmur.</p><p class="p1">“It matters to me,” he states quietly, looking up to find Jaskier’s gaze as he adds, “I didn’t want to hold you back.”</p><p class="p1">The bard smiles weakly, whispering, “And you thought you can come here, patch yourself up, and then drag yourself there? You thought I wouldn’t be able to see it?”</p><p class="p1">“More or less,” Geralt answers honestly and wants to move up when suddenly he winces and curses under his breath.</p><p class="p1">He turns slightly to look for the source of pain and quickly finds it. There it is, on the back of his other shoulder, a clear bite mark. But this one? This one Jaskier sees doesn’t belong to a bear. It’s smaller, quite shallow, but still affecting some of Geralt’s motor skills.</p><p class="p1">“Geralt,” Jaskier begins and his tone of voice carries an unspoken warning. “Do you care to explain this one?”</p><p class="p1">“Hmm,” the witcher only says, still trying to look above his shoulder to glimpse at the wound as he adds, “I didn’t know about it.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s it,” Jaskier bursts, moving further back and standing up. “Get up and get out of the bath.”</p><p class="p1">Miraculously Geralt does stand up. He does it with a huff, saying something under his breath. Jaskier ignores it. The mood is ruined anyway. Instead, he goes to their bags and starts to look for the medications that Triss stocked them up on. He doesn’t have anything against those produced here in the temple, but when it comes to fast and effective solutions, he trusts the mage so much more.</p><p class="p1">Finding the right jar, he turns around just in time to see the witcher stepping out of the tub, starting to dry himself with the bath sheets. He does it carefully and even from here, the bard is still able to see that his movements are slower, more precise, as he traces all droplets of water with the soft white fabric.</p><p class="p1">He clears his throat, trying for a decisive tone as he says, “Do you have any more hidden injuries?”</p><p class="p1">“Just the one on my calf,” Geralt says calmly, holding up his leg so the bard can see another bite mark. “But that one is smaller,” he adds with a shrug.</p><p class="p1">“That was a rhetorical question,” Jaskier comments flatly and as he moves around the chamber to collect needed utilities, he adds, “Were you planning to bleed out in the tub?”</p><p class="p1">“Back in the woods, I drank a potion that stopped the bleeding for a bit,” the witcher explains calmly, finishing drying up. “Iola was supposed to take care of the rest.”</p><p class="p1">The bard snorts, picking up dressings from the basket that the girl left and only commands, “Sit at the windowsill. It’s lighter there.”</p><p class="p1">The witcher arches his eyebrows in an unspoken question, looking from the bard to the window for a short moment before he capitulates with a tired huff. He wraps himself in a dry sheet, tying it around his waist. Without another word, he goes to sit at the windowsill.</p><p class="p1">The window is open, letting in the fresh air with waves of wind. They also carry the voices of people already gathered to celebrate and join together with music. Jaskier can also see the glow of the fire. Soon the stack will be overwhelmed with it and they will be able to see it even from here. It will brighten the sky that tonight will never truly be a fully black night. For now, it’s overtaken by the setting sun, all red and purple like it reflects the colors of the fire.</p><p class="p1">Jaskier wonders if Geralt knows that this is his favorite spot in the whole temple. He doesn’t recall if he’s ever told that to the witcher. Of course, Geralt’s aware this has always been Jaskier’s room when they were visiting before... Before everything. Before Jaskier fell asleep listening to the witcher's slow heartbeats every night. Before that, Jaskier used to sit on the windowsill alone. He would spend hour after hour sometimes, looking through the window till the very late hours of the night. He observed the changing view, listening to the sounds of nature for inspiration, and he dreamed. He dreamed about another person that slept just a few floors down from him. He dreamed and he longed for that person. Sometimes he knew that Geralt wasn’t alone. Sometimes Jaskier wasn’t alone. Nevertheless, at that time Geralt seemed to him like something he would never get. Like something that would never happen. Like something impossible.</p><p class="p1">Now the witcher sits at the windowsill, uncertain and waiting. The space is big enough to accommodate them both, but the man is still just perched on the very edge of it, not even taking advantage of the pillows and blankets spread there for comfort. But he is here with Jaskier. And Jaskier knows he belongs to Geralt. And equally, Geralt belongs to him. So, he wants to protect him. Even though he only has his words and his wits to do so. Even though he doesn’t know how, because before, he never had anyone to protect. So at least he can do that. At least he can help Geralt dress his wounds even if he still doesn’t know the reasons behind why he got them.</p><p class="p1">He takes the last thing from his bedside table and goes to the windowsill. Instead of sitting next to the witcher, he sits at his feet.</p><p class="p1">“Jaskier,” Geralt reacts momentarily, wanting to reach him and help him up. “You don’t have to.”</p><p class="p1">The bard looks up to stop him and just says, “But I want to.”</p><p class="p1">The witcher still leans for a moment, looking at how Jaskier starts to mix Triss' medications with the oil he took from the bedside. Suddenly the room is filled with the scent of lavender and rosemary with some delicate traces of healing chamomile. The aroma is fresh and earthy. The mixture seems to be cool in the bard’s hands, calming and soothing.</p><p class="p1">He warms the ointment between his fingers and then gently starts to cover Geralt’s skin with it. He feels how the witcher relaxes under his hands. Looking up from time to time, he sees the man leaned back, resting on his hands. He closes his eyes, letting his head drop back as well, so whatever Jaskier is doing must finally work. He tries to be as delicate as possible, inspecting each inch of the wound before covering it carefully with the salve.</p><p class="p1">“I can’t believe you preferred to turn for help to one of the adepts,” Jaskier asks, going for the simplest question he has.</p><p class="p1">Geralt holds his head up and cracks one eye open, answering, “We are in Melitele's temple.”</p><p class="p1">“So?” Jaskier shrugs and starts to wrap the man’s calf in a dressing.</p><p class="p1">“This is a place where people specialize in healing,” the witcher proposes.</p><p class="p1">The bard rolls his eyes dismissively. He neatly enfolds the last piece of fabric and tucks its ends behind the layers of dressing, admiring his work.</p><p class="p1">“Now, move up a bit,” Jaskier says, standing up.</p><p class="p1">The witcher listens, shifting and settling deeper on the window’s frame to make room for the bard. Jaskier takes a place beside him and for better access, he puts one leg behind Geralt. The man instantly rests his back on it, taking Jaskier’s other leg to pull it up onto his lap. The motion causes the bard’s legs to enclose the witcher’s waist. Geralt’s hand never leaves its place on Jaskier’s thigh, squeezing his muscles hard and with purpose.</p><p class="p1">The bard doesn’t react but the witcher doesn’t give up. Pretending that he’s trying to see what Jaskier is doing with the bite mark on his back, he leans in. Jaskier can feel his breath on his face. It is slow but each exhale is so forceful that it moves some unruly strands of Jaskier’s hair.</p><p class="p1">“Would you mind?” the bard huffs, shooting the witcher a quick disapproving look. “I’m trying to focus here.”</p><p class="p1">Geralt hums but moves back obediently. He also lets Jaskier work without any further interruption. And the bard completes the process methodically and with care.</p><p class="p1">He covers every cut on the witcher’s skin with the mixture, every bruise and every scratch. Now, since the man cleaned up completely, he can see that there are more of those on his torso and back. With every discovery, Jaskier’s questions multiply. But he holds them to himself. For now. If the witcher doesn’t talk, he won’t either. He knows that even if Geralt doesn’t and won’t admit it, by now he feels uncomfortable without Jaskier’s constant stream of words filling the space around them. The strategy must work because by the time Jaskier finishes wrapping the dressing around Geralt’s torso, the witcher moves uncomfortably, looking at him from time to time with something that feels like concern.</p><p class="p1">“You’re mad,” he finally says as if he decided upon it after a long debate. “That we didn’t make it to the thing you prepared.”</p><p class="p1">Jaskier huffs out a short laugh and looks up at Geralt, saying, “Do you know why I did it?”</p><p class="p1">The witcher only hums in lieu of a question, letting him talk.</p><p class="p1">Jaskier folds the end of the dressing behind its edge on the man’s shoulder and covers it with his hand as he starts, “When we were in Gors Velen last month and you got drunk with Eskel and the other mages, I talked with Yen about you and how, you know… How the witchers celebrate summer solstice,” he stresses the last words, lowering his gaze at his hands that are still settled on the man’s chest. “I heard some stories about it and I wanted to know they are true.”</p><p class="p1">Geralt covers it with his own, pressing Jaskier’s palm closer. Even if the witcher's skin is covered with layers of linen now, he can still feel the incredible warmth radiating from it.</p><p class="p1">“Where they?” Geralt asks and even if the bard doesn’t look at his face, he can hear the worry in his voice.</p><p class="p1">“Well, she didn’t give me much,” Jaskier says, finally holding up his gaze. “But she told me that you are particularly fond of fucking under the open sky.”</p><p class="p1">“Hmm,” the witcher murmurs, pretending to think, and as he cracks a sly smile he adds, “That’s one true, I like that.”</p><p class="p1">“And as we do indulge in that kind of activity quite often on the road,” Jaskier explains slowly. “I wanted to make this time special because it’s our first summer solstice together. So instead of us bonking our brains out on the ground and with only thin bedding under my ass, I thought to prepare a nice fluffy spread of pillows and blankets with a perfect view over the moon and sun together.”</p><p class="p1">Geralt smiles openly, commenting, “But it’s not the only thing the witchers do during Midaëte.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh,” the bard gasps surprised and manages to ask, “So what do you exactly do?”</p><p class="p1">“We can strengthen our ability to make signs,” Geralt answers patiently, tangling their fingers together when he continues, “And the best way to do that is to make them against the skin of someone we love, on temple grounds or close to the source of magic.”</p><p class="p1">“So, Yen didn’t tell me everything,” Jaskier starts, dwelling further, “Or she didn’t know?”</p><p class="p1">“She didn’t know,” the witcher says calmly.</p><p class="p1">“Oh,” the bard exclaims again, taken aback and asks only, “Why?”</p><p class="p1">“The time had never been right,” the man shrugs and before Jaskier is ready for the next question, he says, “I want to give you something.”</p><p class="p1">He lets the bard’s leg down and slides from the windowsill. As always, his movements are not affected by any of the injuries as he goes to the chair that stands at the bedside. He picks up his neatly wrapped shirt. Jaskier didn’t spot that one before. For him, there were more pressing matters. Now he watches how the witcher slowly and carefully takes apart each layer of the fabric, smiling to himself when he finally reveals its content.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t tell me you bought me an engagement jewel,” Jaskier tries for a joke as he nervously watches the man coming back to him.</p><p class="p1">Geralt stands between the bard’s legs and as he holds the bundles for him to see, he says, “It’s a fern flower.”</p><p class="p1">The flower suddenly reflects the light of the moon that shines into the room from behind Jaskier. It also somehow catches the very last red rays of the disappearing sun. Together, even if just seconds ago it was a mere green and common weed, now it sparkles and oscillates with the whole spectrum of light. It almost looks like it’s made from crystal, those tiny and masterful parts that also create snowflakes. But it’s alive and still green and growing because with the touch of the sun it evolves and untangles, showing its long, feathery petals.</p><p class="p1">“I’ve heard stories about it,” Jaskier finally whispers completely dazzled and looks up at the witcher. “But I thought they were made up to entertain children and cheer abandoned lovers.”</p><p class="p1">“One of them is true,” Geralt says quietly. “If you touch it under the light of moon and sun, on the summer solstice, and make a wish, the wish is going to come true.”</p><p class="p1">“So today at the morn–”</p><p class="p1">Jaskier starts but the witcher interrupts, explaining, “The villagers thought there was a monster but the only thing I found in the woods was the animals protecting those flowers from anyone who wanted to claim them.”</p><p class="p1">“The bites?” the bard concludes and when the witcher only nods, he says softly, “Geralt, you could have been killed.”</p><p class="p1">“Make the wish,” the man only answers.</p><p class="p1">“It’s you who found it.”</p><p class="p1">“I could take more of them, but I have everything,” Geralt says simply. “So, make the wish.”</p><p class="p1">Jaskier looks at the flower and still hesitates as he slowly reaches for it. And then he remembers something. He remembers that people say on this day miracles happen. That this is the time when destiny has its biggest causative power. That if you wish for something, and you wish it very deeply and honestly, you might get it on this day.</p><p class="p1">Before, Jaskier has wished for many things, he once said some of those wishes aloud to the djinn, but most of them are trivial and simple or surprisingly common. So of course, he wishes for a happy and healthy life. He wants to have his pouch ample, full of coins, and his stomach always filled with exquisite food. Sometimes he even prays for his ballads to be listened to forever, to be known, and spread to all corners of the Continent. But all those desires could also belong to any other person.</p><p class="p1">Those real dreams, those serious thoughts, he knows he can’t ever wish just like that, flaunting them around. Those wishes had to be safe, guarded. Wishes such as these are never spoken about. Even on a day like today. And yet he still hopes that maybe, just maybe, someone will make them true. And Geralt did that. Geralt made them happen.</p><p class="p1">He takes the flower and carefully places it on his hands. Closing his palm, he looks back at the man that stands in front of him. He looks at his beautiful face. He looks into his eyes. Those strange, mesmerizing eyes he had fallen in love with at first sight. He looks at him and knows that this is his everything. And he knows what he wants.</p><p class="p1">“I want to grow old with you,” Jaskier says surely and as he repeats it, he feels how the inside of his fists suddenly becomes warm, “I want to grow old with you, Geralt of Rivia.”</p><p class="p1">“Jaskier,” the witcher says with a warning, “You know what that means.”</p><p class="p1">“I know,” the bard assures him and opens his palm.</p><p class="p1">The fern flower is gone, and the only thing left is glittering dust that quickly spreads in the air and slows with the next blow of air. Jaskier turns and follows its road up the sky and strangely connects with the stars. Below them the feast starts to burst with music, laughter, and cheerful chants. The fire already kisses the firmament, brightening it with its flames.</p><p class="p1">When he turns back, his witcher is close again. He rests his hands on both Jaskier’s sides, leaning in with a cunning smile dancing on his lips.</p><p class="p1">“So, bard,” he says, arching his brows in an unspoken challenge, “This is where we begin.”</p><p class="p1">“Together,” Jaskier agrees and with a smile, he adds, “Witcher.”</p><p class="p1">And he closes the small space between them. Just a little bit. Just a few inches. Their lips meet. One, twice. Slowly, lazily. Geralt tastes a little bit like blood. He tastes like the breezy air of the morning. Like fresh, cold water. But that’s okay. Jaskier knows he will warm him up. Always. Night and day.</p><p class="p1">He’s going into this with the same constantly burning need. The same one that pushed him to kiss Geralt the first time. The same one that he wakes up with and just wants to have more of this man. More of life with him. More time.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t do that again,” he says when he stops for a moment.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t do what?” the witcher asks, holding his hand up to trace the outline of Jaskier’s lips with his fingers.</p><p class="p1">The bard catches it with his own and as he kisses each fingertip, he explains, “Don’t do stupid things alone. Take me with you next time.”</p><p class="p1">“Next time,” Geralt promises, exhaling words with his hot breath and manages to catch Jaskier's lips again.</p><p class="p1">Their lips meet again, and again, and in between each time they are apart the bard tries to ask, “Wait-what… Geralt, the signs-I want to kno–”</p><p class="p1">“Later,” the witcher turns back Jaskier’s words on him as he reaches to fist into his shirt. “We have the whole night.”</p><p class="p1">He drags the bard closer, crushing his lips. For a moment Jaskier fights with himself because right now he wants to know. This is important. It is. It really is. But Geralt kisses like they were apart ages ago not hours. He kisses with hunger and yearning. There is so much yearning Jaskier can almost sense it tangling through the witcher’s skin. And so, he melts into that. He gives up and opens.Hot, wet tongue storms his lips. Geralt licks in with a soft moan against his skin. He pulls Jaskier closer, tangling his fingers into the bard’s shirt until it starts to rip. He wants to bite in deeper, harder. And Jaskier is all for it. His fingers tighten their grip in the witcher’s hair. He pulls him in. He pulls him impossibly near.</p><p class="p1">
  
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